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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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Untitled Article
write Boccaccio , JBocaccio , as if the Word did not come from Bocca ; or as if the Italians themselves were in the habit of writing it as he does ? and why does a writer , otherwise so correct in his language , with such a regard for euphony , and apparently such a dislike of innovation , fall in with the vile custom lately come up of saying "ds did" so and so , and u as does *'\( az duz ! /) instead of u as so and so did , " and " as a man does ? " Novelties of this sort are excusable on no ground ; and ought to he greatly deprecated , as tending to render obsolete the correcter style . Helena . A Poem . By Thomas Wade . 8 vo . ( Paged to bind up with previous poems . ) Moxon . Thomas Wade ( our esteemed contributor ) is a poet : and may go on his way , rejoicing in the dignity and vanity of that appellation .
" And of a power o er beauty . "
Aye , that , but not the other ; for hi $ sense of beauty was so small , that he saw nothing in it but the pleasure of laying it waste ; while the lady ' s sense of love was equally so small , that she saw nothing to love in the universe , unconnected with this unworthy object 1 The rest of the story is a painful extravagance grafted upon that of the
" And he said no more ? * Cried Helena , with accents that did rend The heart that ufcter'd , and the ears that heard , With all the human woe that Jills a word "— -p . 22 . « And at length homeward did she weeping go , And found fresh wrinkles on her mother ' s cheek , And greyer hairs upon her father ' s brow , Grown of the sorrow which they did not sp 0 afc ' ' ~ "lbid * « _ Words slept in her eyes which spai ; e her sorry . "—p . 21 ? * Uaaojte ^ bow of mourning Helena , Jfo little flowers that love th * grass and m < m . —p . 26 *
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He is overflowing with fancy and sensibility , and not without the
finest and widest subtleties of imagination . But he will be a greater poet when he ceases to lament over the ills of life without a purpose ; to be haunted with the tone and manner of the poets , his predecessors ; and above all , to confound sensation itself , and will with whatsoever is selecter and worthier
in either . The consequence of this last mistake especially is to produce poems , like gardens run to seed and weed , and to walk in them , himself , doubtful and dissatisfied ( at least we trust so ) , though inclined by that dissatisfaction to entertain and grow hopeless with unworthy guests , perilous to the native innocence and
nobleness of his muse . Here is a story for instance of a lady seduced , who was all for a " sense of love , " and a seducer , who was all for a " sense of beauty : "—
* Pot of Basil / ( in which passion is already carried to its utmost ) , and leaves ( we are sorry to say it ) a most unpleasing and unpoedcal effect on the mind , of deformity forced into alliance with the beautiful . This too in a poem containing such lovely passages as the following !—
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New Books . 291
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Citation
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Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Oct. 1, 1837, page 291, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1836/page/66/
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